


ink stained

by ElevenGaleStorms



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Aya-centric, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Short Chapter, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-01-26 10:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12555636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElevenGaleStorms/pseuds/ElevenGaleStorms
Summary: There will be multiple chapters for this. If I can manage to write Maria and Aguilar in character, then the next chapter will be about them (and hopefully longer). I'm really sorry about how short this chapter is, by the way. I tend to be a skittish writer a lot of times, to be honest. So this is as far as I am going to go for my first attempt at writing a new character. I hope this wasn't too horrible. Anyway, it was fun writing this short chapter. Thanks for reading!





	1. The Hidden One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maria_and_Aguilars_Codex_1492](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maria_and_Aguilars_Codex_1492/gifts).



The cloth that had covered the skin of her wrist wasn’t an act of shame but rather of rebirth.

The black, flowing writing of Bayek that was inked onto her wrist would never go away. Aya didn’t want it to.

But the time she had with Bayek- _Khemu_ -were gone.

Not forgotten though, Aya would never forget.

But she was no longer Aya of Siwa, Wife of Bayek, the Medjay.

No.

As she stood there forcefully knelt at the feet of her enemies with blood trickling down her fingertips, her enemies jeered down at her.

“I wonder what lowly scum abandons their soulmate,” A chuckling was heard, ”Oh, that’s right. You w-”

The piercing cry of the eagle was heard from ahead and she smiled with closed eyes, still seeing what could not be seen by others.

(Bayek wasn’t the only one with the Gift.)

And Aya moved.

_“I am Amunet, the Hidden One.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be multiple chapters for this. If I can manage to write Maria and Aguilar in character, then the next chapter will be about them (and hopefully longer). I'm really sorry about how short this chapter is, by the way. I tend to be a skittish writer a lot of times, to be honest. So this is as far as I am going to go for my first attempt at writing a new character. I hope this wasn't too horrible. Anyway, it was fun writing this short chapter. Thanks for reading!


	2. For the Creed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In that final moment, she laid eyes on him, her novice, with two words on her lips: For the Creed. Yet seeing the pained look in his eyes brought her no relief nor determination for what was to come.

Maria had met both of the names printed on her skin.

**_Aguilar de Nerha._ **

**_Ojeda._ **

Each name had a different, unique style to it. She remembered the times where she would look at her wrist and just think. That was until the bracers covered her bare skin and those names.

* * *

It didn’t come as a shock when she saw him. The sudden bloom of heat to her left wrist told her all that she needed to know.

Aguilar de Nerha. The man who lost his family to the Templars. His eyes burned with a vengeance and hidden anger for what he had lost just as hers did for the Creed.

She remembered seeing his eyes light up in realization when he heard her name. The way his hands seemed to favor his left wrist was noticeable like he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

Benedicto seemed to understand what was taking place, and with an understanding yet expecting look in his eye nodded towards Maria.

(She knew how to handle this. Just as they always told her to.) 

* * *

It was one time that they were sparring with their hidden blades flicked out and limbs moving. She had blocked one of Aguilar’s attacks before following with a blow with her other arm. The hit sent him sprawling towards the floor.

“Do not let your emotions cloud you,” Maria said. Her hidden blades already sheathed and breathing calm. Her novice looked up at her with emotions still in his eyes and questions evident.

* * *

Years later, he would still have emotions almost painfully clear and evident in his eyes. The choice she could- no would make was obvious to him. Maria knew that he would do compromise something-even the Creed- as his emotions guide him.

She couldn’t let that happen.

And in that final moment, she laid eyes on him, her novice, with two words on her lips:

_For the Creed._

Yet seeing the pained look in his eyes brought her no relief nor determination for what was to come.

It was a simple motion that had Ojeda’s blade cutting into her throat. The wet feeling of blood trickling down her throat and moment of weakness had her going to the ground.

If she had felt a movement in Ojeda’s arm that suggested he was even surprised, she ignored it.

The last thing she saw was Aguilar’s eyes filled with that same fire she saw in him all those years ago staring at her.

And the last thing she felt was the warm, lingering sensation on her left wrist.

Maria had once heard that dying felt cold.

(They were wrong.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write them in character... but I don't think it worked out too well, honestly. Any feedback and advice would be much appreciated. I hope this turned out to be readable. Thank you for reading!


	3. heated

Fighting had always evoked a certain feeling in him. The heated rush of blood as metal clashed and fists rained down was familiar to Ojeda.

But the bloom of heat on his wrist was fierce and isolated like a candle surrounded by darkness- _coldcoldcold_ -

And it flickered once, twice, and thrice until it just faded, the candle dying.

His hand went to clutch his wrist as the heated skin cooled at his touch. It was a fall night, and the air was cold.

 _Interesting_ , was his only thought at the peculiar yet not entirely unwelcome sensation.

* * *

The same sensation Ojeda felt happened again and again over the stay at the small Spanish town he resided in. He heard talks among his men of soulmates-something Ojeda had once dismissed as fairy tales. Even if soulmates proved to be true, deep down inside he knew that there was no certainty in having one of his own.

Yet that didn't stop him from tracing the inked words on his wrist with curiosity.

Later, Ojeda would wonder.

Was it possible to be both right and wrong at the same time? After all, Ojeda didn't have one soulmate, but _two_.

And they were both _Assassins_.

* * *

 ** _Maria_** and **_Aguilar_** both whose names he had wondered about as fleeting blooms of heat offered a brief glimpse of their presence.

It was only when he finally saw them together, fighting as master and novice, did he realize.

Templars and Assassins had only two outcomes in their fate together.

One would die, and the other would survive.

There was just as well another possibility.

They would both die.

(His _asesinos_ would be his downfall, part of him always knew that.)

* * *

 ** _Aguilar_** chased after him with rage and vengeance in his eyes, and Ojeda returned the sentiment with a hunt of his own. A game would be too little to call what he had with him.

It was _something_.

For Ojeda, his name was something that could be traced over and over again on inked skin.

 ** _Maria_** was the one who reigned **_Aguilar_** back from getting too entranced in the chase they had together. She too had helped **_Aguilar_** in defeating his men with movements fluid like a dance. Blades were flashing out in a heartbeat as they slid into the throats of his men with no mercy. A spray of blood from a slit throat in the heat of battle had crimson droplets decorating tattooed skin. Cold eyes flashed with fever at that very moment, and Ojeda could feel his wrist flare with heat that it almost burned.

For Ojeda, it was almost as if her name was _burned_ into his skin, painful yet permanent.

There was an exhilaration yet calm in the _calamity_ that was their relationship.

* * *

His wrist had _flared_ again and again with every strike and movement he made against them.

The sudden jerk his arm had made was accompanied by warm droplets of crimson going onto his fingers. Ojeda's eyes widened before his wrist _burned_ and _burned_ , searing the flesh. Blood filled his mouth as Ojeda bit his tongue.

_It hurt._

As Aguilar stared back at him with rage in his eyes, Ojeda knew he felt the same.

She remained motionless on the ground with blood trickling down her throat in crimson rivets.

The searing sensation that made his very flesh simmer and burn began to fade and something in Ojeda's chest began to sink and weigh heavy.

The pain became nothing, and darkness-cold- swallowed up the sensation.

As one name on his wrist began to fade in its warmth, another flared, burning away the cold.

Aguilar stared back at him with ever-increasing rage and anger accompanied by grief and pain.

A flash of a blade and _he_ moved.

**_One last chase._ **

* * *

Ojeda had always thought dying would be cold accompanied by a chilling numbness as darkness swallowed his being.

He was wrong.

Despite the chill bit at the edges of his being, he still felt warm in the heat and pain being flared by **_Aguilar_**.

 _It was a blessing for death not to be cold in its embrace_ , was his last thought.

(Perhaps, that was what soulmates were for: to chase away the darkness, the cold.)


End file.
